England Eid

Eid break is the holiday that follows Ramadan and the dates change to a few weeks earlier every year. In another couple of years it will fall during the summer months and we won’t have this mid-semester break. I decided to go to England to visit a good friend, Jane England, who I haven’t seen in four years. She has been living in Guatemala but is back for a short while. She lives in Exmouth in the Southwest part of England, known for its clotted cream – yum! – my weakness.


We have spent much of the time going for walks: some with her friend Chris and lovely Italian Spinone dog, Flo; one day on Dartmoor, the large moor area west of Exmouth; and a walk in the Commons (a public wooded area) with Jane’s dad & his dog, Lucas. (I’m getting my dog-fix this week.) Jane lives a block from the beach and a couple blocks from town. We also visited Jane’s brother, Dave, in Plymouth.


The most exciting day so far was the trip to Plymouth via Dartmoor. I can’t remember ever walking on a moor but have a fascination with moors from books such as “Wuthering Heights”. Dartmoor has a special feature of many stone circles and other rock formations. Jane borrowed her dad’s car for the trip. The first stop was a stone formation called “Spinster’s Rock,” so named because “it was put up one morning by three spinsters before breakfast” (to quote the web site where we found directions). It sits in a fenced off farmers field with sheep lounging around. It’s made up of three large stones up on end in a triangle with a huge stone on top, like a roof. There’s no way three spinsters put these rocks up before breakfast or any time for that matter. It would take about 50 strong MEN (yes, I know… I should say women) to lift these stones (see pictures). Jane decided that it was the appropriate time & place to renounce our spinsterhood, so we each stood inside the circle and announced to the world that we were thankful for the many enjoyable years of spinsterhood but we were now renouncing ours and ready to move on. It was moving. I believe the heavens were shaken…or something was shaken, as we soon discovered.

From there we moved on to a place called “Scorhill,” a stone circle out on the moors. To get to the start of the walk we had to drive through the narrowest little “roads” you can imagine, all windy & hilly, bordered by tall hedges like walls. A car came around the corner once and had to back up until we could squeeze by. The weather was very dark & moody, with black clouds & fog hanging low on the horizon. It’s exactly the right weather for a moor, I think. It’s hard to explain how it made me feel. Such intense emotions – not bad, not happy – just…intense. I loved it. I wanted to stay and wander the hills for a week.
There were several creeks with large single stones stretched across as bridges. The one stone circle wasn’t impressive like Stonehenge, but combined with the setting of the moors and dark clouds of threatening rain, I could feel the ancient vibrations of the place.

Jane says she needs a “pet American” – this comes from my excitement over the quaint… everything in England, as well as my love of walks here. To think I could replace a dog. It’s a compliment, coming from her.

It was getting late by then so we continued on to Plymouth. The torrential rain & thick fog hit as we crossed the moor and it got dark. When we got to Plymouth, the exit off the highway to Dave’s house took about 30 minutes in bumper to bumper traffic. The car started to die, a red overheating light came on and a nasty rattling sound started. By the time we got off, Jane was worried but just wanted to get to Dave’s which was only about 5 minutes away so she kept driving, but it was losing power and making a terrible noise. She kept to the far left side and didn’t realize at one point that she was not in a lane at all but in a long bus turn-out that slowly converged back into the main lane. A large bus charged down on us just as our lane merged into the same lane and it was such a close call we both thought for moment that we would die – literally inches from a collision. Before we got to Dave’s, the car died and refused to start again. The next morning the garage pronounced it dead – a blown head gasket. On this small car & engine, it’s almost not worth fixing. The decision was made to buy a replacement motor at a huge expense – money none of England family have to spare.

After several glasses of wine & good food at Dave’s house that night, we calmed down and had a lovely evening. At one point, the conversation drifted to my fascination with British slang and how clueless I am to the meaning of some of the extremely rough words in the language. I have been learning from my British friend, Nick, what some of these words mean, but I learned a few more this night. I found a funny web site recently that gives definitions of British slang for Americans. As I read some of it to Dave & Jane, I started finding other words I thought I knew the meaning of but clearly didn’t. Since most everyone who reads this is American, I can write these words here. They sound funny, but trust me, the actual meaning is crude: twat, bugger, and bollocks. I thought I knew what “bugger” and “bollocks” meant. The look on my face when I read the definitions sent Dave & Jane into hysterics. Dave is a DJ for the most popular music station in Plymouth and he said this was good material for the show, but he can’t figure out how to do it without breaking the censorship rules. He plans to talk about me on the show this week. How cool. I’ll be famous.

The next day in Plymouth was the one and only sunny day I had here and the one day I left my camera at home. Starbucks at the mall had “technical difficulties” and had to close, so they gave away filter coffee & free cheesecake to everyone. Clearly the world was looking up. While we drank our free coffee, Jane started listing off all the “near death” experiences we’ve had together in Bosnia, the Philippines, and Mozambique. It was quite an exaggeration except for the Mozambique one. I’ve had my share of near-deaths without Jane, though. My brother likes to say that the angels argue over who has to watch over me because it’s such an exhausting job. It does feel like it’s not my time to go.